


Trust me (with this promise for life)

by ChocoNut



Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [49]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Missing scene in 4x4, Smut, passionate lovemaking, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29760045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Brienne is to leave King's Landing the morning after Jaime gives her the sword, the armour and the pretty mare. His feelings for her and his concern for her well-being don't let him sleep, and he decides to pay her one last visit.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [49]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1483640
Comments: 15
Kudos: 98





	Trust me (with this promise for life)

**Author's Note:**

> This one's special because this is dedicated to my friend who is battling the final stages of a terminal ailment. She gave me the prompt "Jaime is worried sick about Brienne's life and safety". Since this is one of her wishes I can easily fulfil, I decided to write this for her.  
> She's not on AO3, so I can't gift this to her, but I'm sure she'll read it. 
> 
> Dear M, I hope you like it, and I really wish this brings a little bit of peace and joy to you.

“Must you leave at dawn itself?”

Brienne does not answer immediately. The flicker of surprise on her face and the inappropriate timing of his unannounced visit are hints that she must be wondering if he is lost or drunk or both.

“I came to see you because—” This is where the will Jaime had gathered abandons him.

“Come in.” She leads him to the bed, the only seating arrangement in her chambers.

While he has been running this over in his head all evening—ever since he’d left her with his sword, the armour and the prettiest mare he could find, she is all there is in his head. A thousand more gifts he could shower her with, but even a thousand more than that cannot sum up to what he feels. Tonight, he cannot afford to be tight-lipped; not if he wants to make it known before it is too late. No, he cannot let it be too late. Between now and the first rays of the sun is all he has to look into her heart and find out if he has a place in there.

“You know I can waste no more time,” she says, sitting down.

He perches beside her. “And I know I must not stall you.” He shivers upon recollection of his frequent nightmares. “But alone, with Cersei’s men soon at your heels, scouring the forests and tearing down every inch of the kingdom to hunt you down and—” He can’t bring himself to describe further. “This will put your life at great risk, my lady.”

Brienne dismisses his fear with a soft laugh, as if her life is beneath his worry and this discussion. “There’s nothing I would want more than to be out on this quest.” The ghost of the laugh remains on her lips. “If I succeed, I will have fulfilled my promise. If I die trying, so be it. But should I fail and bear the misfortune of living to see that day—” Her nostrils flaring, she shakes her head. “Nothing’s more hateful than failing to protect the ones—”

“I could send my trusted men with you,” he offers before she can finish, hoping she heeds him. “You are able enough to do this yourself, but like everyone else, you are made of flesh and bones, too.” _And I can’t bear to wake up to news of my worst nightmares coming alive._

“I appreciate your kindness,” she gently puts him down. “But I should do this alone—”

“Do you not trust me?”

She sighs. “You know I would trust you with my life.” 

“Then—”

“The sword, the gold, the armour and the mare… you have already done more than enough for me, Ser Jaime,” she says. The burden of what she thinks is an obligation falls like a thick veil on her eyes. “If you send your men with me, your sister will find out. I don’t want you running into trouble on my account—”

“Nothing’s more hateful than failing to protect the one you love.”

When her brows meet in confusion, Jaime realizes he will have to do more than this to convince her. “The sword and everything else—I hope you understand what they mean. If you meet your death, I will be left with an empty misery, my lady.”

She lowers her eyes, and when she raises them to his again, her defenses are down. 

“By now you should know I’m not here just to bid you goodbye.” He takes her hand. “Close your eyes, Brienne.” 

When she does, he closes the little space between them and brushes his lips against hers in a chaste and courtly manner. “Tell me to stop, because if you don’t—”

He does not say the rest. And she does not tell him to stop.

He leans in and kisses her deeply, pouring into it all the passion he’s been carrying inside him for her. She gasps, trembling lips moving clumsily against his, the tiny cuts on her skin mating with the scratches on his. He glides the tip of this tongue along the seam of her lips, and when he doesn’t claim further entry, just teasing the corners of her mouth, her hand grips his shirt, the hum she pours down his throat telling him she needs more.

But he pauses before lust can assume full control. He needs to know from her, not just her body.

“Don’t stop,” she answers him before he can ask, her cheeks crimson, her eyes heavily laden with want when she opens them.

Such longing he has never heard in Cersei’s voice before. Such love he has never seen in the eyes that match his own. His cock swells, aches for her softness. His heart soars, yearning to be hers until the end of his days. He slowly opens her laces to let her shirt fall open. He lays his stump on her thigh, his good hand on her waist. He shifts closer again, lets his lips skim her ear. “You surely want this?”

He can feel her hold her breath, then release it after a moment. “Yes.”

Pushing her shirt to uncover more of her skin as he goes, he rests his palm on her belly and rubs gentle circles around her navel. “And this?” he asks, tense and strained.

“Yes.” There’s a quiver to her voice that matches his. 

He moves his hand up to her breast, and pushes onto a nipple with his thumb. “ _Yes,_ ” she whispers again, and he strokes her there. With every press, his cock wakes up a little more. With every soft push of her breast against his fingers, his agony soars. 

He rolls his stump into the curve of her thigh, and when he glides it upwards, she gasps aloud. “This?” he asks, and when his lips reach beneath her ear, she squirms. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, caressing her over her pants. Her hands are on his chest, pressing tightly, gripping his shirt. Her thighs crush his stump, pinning him to her warmth. Her breathing hitches when he strokes over the dampness, feeling the swollen flesh underneath.

“Keep going,” she insists, her voice thickening with arousal. Every nerve his to govern, she throbs at his touch when he teases her hardened nipple with soft pinches. “Just like that.”

He lets go, but only so they can undress each other. He spreads her shirt open, and she wriggles out of it, his following it to the foot of the bed seconds after her impatient fingers attack his laces. His hand is on her waist; he can feel her stomach tighten when he traces the union of the clothed and the bare. His thumb presses into her groin, pushing to extract another squirm; her unwomanly grunt chides him, demanding he stop torturing her like this.

When the last bit of her clothing parts company with her body, he draws in a breath. He cannot help his roaming eyes.

“What are you staring at?” she asks, but he looks on, unblinking. From hardened nipples down to the glistening golden patch between her legs, every freckle he remembers, and every scar that decorates her.

“It is not the first time,” he teases, and she immediately drops her eyes, busying herself with his pants. “If I didn’t that first time, I could not have got that armour right.”

“I didn’t know you looked at me like that at Harrenhal.” While her fingers work away steadily, she’s blushing.

“You were too busy trying to decide whether to hate me or not.” His mind drifts back to that night. “What I feel now I felt that night too. But I failed to comprehend what it meant then.”

Soon after, he stands before her, naked as the day she had embraced his past, and just as vulnerable. Only, his heart and his body, both are hers tonight.

“Trust me,” he says, when his erection is met with an apprehension he is dying to get rid of.

“You know I do,” she says.

His lips are on hers again. This time it is not entirely unlike their second, only harder, with far greater need. His tongue darts forth, capturing hers, seeking more, urging her to open up and let go of the last dregs of whatever still stands between them. His whole being tingles with pleasure when she returns his passion with awkward fervour. She is a stranger to such intimacy, and he wants to take his time. He wants to take it slow enough to let their senses align, to let hers drown in what he is plunging her into. His hand is on her breast, cupping her, palming her, and she draws him deeper into the kiss, her body begging to be touched, her nipple growing under his touch, lengthening to a thickness and rising from her breast, the soft sighs she covers his mouth with, cutting him loose, undoing him.

Panic clouds her face when they draw apart for air. “I have never had a man touch me before. I don’t know what… or how to—”

Jaime goes back to kissing her, open mouthed, his tongue invading, grazing the tip of hers. He draws back instead of going in deeper, takes her hand, and presses it to his cock. “Just stay with me,” he breathes, his voice breaking. “And trust me.”

She strokes him, and when he twitches at her touch, he can see the gleam in her eyes. This is foreign, to be with a woman other than Cersei, to have another’s fingers touch him, but this is pleasure. His sister has always been a taker, but with Brienne, he knows it will be about _them_. She squeezes gently, and his hand in her hair, he pulls her head back, tugging a little. His teeth meet her throat when her fingers brush his balls, her moan greeting his when he pauses to absorb this sensation of her, their shivers bringing them together. She closes her eyes and offers herself to him, and his lips take it all, moving to her breasts, kissing, long swirls of his tongue bathing her nipples in the heat of his want.

“I trust you,” she assures him, when he lays her on the bed. “More than anyone else.”

He kneels at the edge of the bed, his fingers light on her inner thigh, his head between her legs. He nudges her open and presses his lips where she’s aching. He kisses, sucks softly around her need. She thrashes around him helplessly when his tongue leaves nothing untouched, her purrs of pleasure stoking his desire to have her. Her whimpers turn breathless when his lips and tongue find the rhythm her body craves. 

When she cries out, writhing against his mouth, there is no apprehension, only want, burning for his touch, for this oneness they had both been yearning for somewhere deep down. 

He rises, watches her for a moment, revelling in what he has done to her. Flushed and glowing, she is a picture of beauty, a joy he would never forego.

He gets on the bed with her, wraps around her. Yes, he is getting harder by the moment, but around her, has this not been more than a one-time exception? Moving his hand between them, he edges himself along her folds. A needy sigh gushes into his mouth, an invitation, and he draws in lower, sliding into the slickness between her thighs.

Her breath gets sharper when he stops. “I trust you,” she says again, kissing him deeply. 

She wriggles beneath him when he pushes slowly, leaving a soft bite on his lip when he goes all the way in. _I love you,_ he means to confess. “I will never let you down,” he says, instead, staying on her lips, staying nestled inside her, his eyes telling hers that both mean the same.

Her body tells him the same when she holds him close, her flesh bound to his. This is a dance for two, and ever since he had asked her to it on that fateful day of their doomed duel, were they not always heading for this? It now feels like a sign from the skies, a message from the forces writing their fates that they were always meant to be more than what they were thrown together to be.

He withdraws, and when he ventures into her warmth again, her hands come to rest on his sides, guiding him. Her warrior’s grip holds his to her breast, her teeth sinking into his skin as he leads her into it. She rolls her hips, warmth and wetness welcoming him as he inches deeper. She opens up, giving him room, working him in. With every thrust, she gives him untainted pleasure. Every kiss she places on his lips carries her unsaid ‘ _I love you.’_

His hand wanders with abandon as their movements grow intense. This is not the low-on-confidence maiden anymore. He caresses her breasts, plays with her nipples—tongue and fingers, both getting their share. Her pleasure igniting her, she bucks and struggles under him, breasts pushing into his chest, hands pushing him deeper into her.

She whimpers with delight, and he gives her more. He presses her into the sheets, his need to have her, growing. Soaring. And when her throaty demand of lust hits the walls of the room, he takes this to a heated peak, the bed creaking to their beat.

And then it begins, the beginning of the culmination of their glorious union.

Her moans take to the tune of his grunts. Breaths mingling, their hands join as their hips sway together. Her tremors begin to rock her body, luring him in, tempting him to join. She sets out on a flight, and he rides with her into the dazzling light.

And then she falls, her climax pulsing from her womb to his loins, her soft whisper of, ‘ _Jaime,’_ caressing his lips.

Consumed by the heat of her release, he follows, going down with a final mighty thrust, filling her, falling onto her chest.

Their cares left behind for a few golden moments, they lie together, just belonging with each other, in the present. Something he has never had with Cersei, it makes him feel wanted. Loved. It fills him with such warmth that his heart might burst.

“Can I ask you for one thing before you leave?” he says, putting his arms around her as she rests her head on his chest. “Two, actually.”

Her eyes have already given him the world. “Anything.”

He runs his fingers fondly through her hair. Those eyes, he wants to wake up to every morning. The thought of them shutting away forever is a pain he does not want to wish to carry to the real world. “Stay alive, Brienne.” 

“Trust me to do my best with that.” Her well-kissed lips curve in a smile. “What is your other wish?”

“Marry me.” There is nothing more he wants. Nothing but her. “At first light, we can wed in a secret ceremony.” Her radiant face reflects her desire for the same. “I will come for you later, my lady.”

“I know you will,” Brienne says, the faith in her voice warming his heart.

Jaime pulls her into a kiss. This night may be their last one for now, but there will be many more to come, for after the darkness of their separation will come a bright new dawn shining upon them again.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay happy. Stay safe. Thank you so much for reading!


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